If a man had got no feelings, it
'ud be as good as a demonstration to listen to what goes on in court;
but a tender heart makes one stupid. I'd have given up figures for ever
only to have had some good news to bring to you, my poor lad."
"But does it seem to be going against her?" said Adam. "Tell me what
they've said. I must know it now--I must know what they have to bring
against her."
"Why, the chief evidence yet has been the doctors; all but Martin
Poyser--poor Martin. Everybody in court felt for him--it was like one
sob, the sound they made when he came down again. The worst was when
they told him to look at the prisoner at the bar. It was hard work, poor
fellow--it was hard work. Adam, my boy, the blow falls heavily on him
as well as you; you must help poor Martin; you must show courage. Drink
some wine now, and show me you mean to bear it like a man."
Bartle had made the right sort of appeal. Adam, with an air of quiet
obedience, took up the cup and drank a little.
"Tell me how SHE looked," he said presently.
"Frightened, very frightened, when they first brought her in; it was the
first sight of the crowd and the judge, poor creatur. And there's a lot
o' foolish women in fine clothes, with gewgaws all up their arms
and feathers on their heads, sitting near the judge: they've dressed
themselves out in that way, one 'ud think, to be scarecrows and warnings
against any man ever meddling with a woman again.
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